Brotherhood
by bluejay
Summary: Robin has been kidnapped. And while Batman races to rescue him, Dick finds himself in a situation he never thought would happen; and let's just say, cloning science is old news.  Slightly AUish
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own anyone. Maybe the random minions.  
>Thanks: to InvisibleBrunette for the beta<p>

Notes: Found a prompt on Tumblr and my imagination decided to run away with it. Partly inspired by Rob Thurman's Korsak Brothers series - if you love the rapport between Dick and the 'special' character who appears in Chapter 5, I suggest you give this series a try.

Notes2: I have a couple of other fics waiting to be posted. I just couldn't wait to post this one hehehe.

Notes3: What is it with all the 'episode reviews' and 'blogs' entries? FFnet isn't a blog site. It's a _fanfiction _site! My policy has always been: you don't like what you watched/read? Post a fic about it instead of a commentary.

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><p>The night was mostly silent, broken only by cars speeding towards home. It was different from the usual honks and whistles of a busy city life; but if he listened closely, Dick could hear distant murmurs of a radio or television broadcast. A cool breeze blew past him, blowing his cape behind him but he'd held fast to the corners and all the wind did was puff up the yellow underside like a balloon.<p>

So far, this stakeout was proving to be uneventful, for which Dick was thankful. He had a Chemistry test the next day and though he'd already studied for it, he wanted to at least be well rested for it. He could have asked Wally for help in studying but the speedster was busy. Dick gave a mental snort. Wally was busy alright, busy finding the most minute thing to complain about their archer teammate.

He sighed and tracked the armed goon with his binocs. The man was carefully watching the perimeter, his back military straight and his finger steady on the rifle's trigger. Dick switched to watch another goon and saw the same disciplined stance. These guys were obviously not part of the usual gangs that run around the Gotham Harbor.

He shifted his weight to his left leg. He'd been crouched in the same position for an hour now, and his right was tingling in the signal that meant it was starting to go numb. Still, he watched and waited.

His commset crackled. He put down his binocs and acknowledged the call with a frown. Communications static might be a normal occurrence for most people but it doesn't happen often enough for people like Batman and Robin, for which Dick was thankful. Bruce had tinkered with the JLA communicators so the signal would be received stronger; there shouldn't be any static at all through the comms unless there was a jamming signal nearby.

"Yes?" he said cautiously into the speaker. If the signal was being jammed, there was a chance someone was listening in, too. So he had to keep from mentioning names or locations.

But instead of a voice answering, there was a series of static clicks and murmurs. Dick recognized the unique code Bruce invented and he faked a confused, "I can't hear you clearly. There's too much noise."

The clicks continued and his mind translated even as he kept up the ignorant replies. _Wrong information. Too many guards. Ten minutes. Do not engage. _

Robin sent back a couple of clicks. _Copy. _Then he pulled out the pair of binocs and returned to his stakeout. Denny the Gulch had said there was something going on in the sixteenth storage locker tonight. The petty thief squealed like the fairytale pig as soon as Batman's shadow loomed over him.

"D-dock three!" he shrieked, his hands raised to protect his head. "I heard from Dim-Dum who heard from Johnny who heard from Bulldog-"

"Get to the point!" Batman growled, giving the thief a shake.

" 'S-S-Stay away from Storage Sixteen, Dock Three!'" Denny cringed further. "T-that's what they been telling us! That's all I know!"

Batman dropped the thief and wordlessly, the Dynamic Duo left.

Bruce had them split up when they were a block away from Gotham Harbor. He'd had intel that there was an illegal shipment of arms coming in tonight and he didn't want Robin to join him. So Dick was sent to watch the storage locker despite protests while Bruce staked out Dock Three. Batman must have found something in the docks to make him break his stakeout and rush over to Robin.

Dick reached up towards his commset, wanting to ask what Batman had found. Only for a minute though, because movement by the storage locker had him sending an urgent coded message to Bruce. _Hostage present. Moving in._

Denny had said word on the street was to stay away from the locker. The sight of several armed men and one woman proves that there was something suspicious going on, and it was happening tonight.

He shot out a line and was swinging for the warehouse before Batman could send another message. The eight guards outside didn't even notice him flying past them to land on the sloping roof. Dick quickly shimmied up to the open cleft in the middle - it was wide enough to let his small frame through but not someone like Batman. From there, it was a short leap to the rafters.

The warehouse light hung in long lamps from the ceiling, keeping everything dark from roof level up; perfect for ninja-trained vigilantes. Armed men were milling around the wide interior, their movements casual and not at all nervous. Crates and boxes were stacked high on all sides, with silent forklifts standing idle among them.

Robin frowned and pulled out his binocs again to take a closer look at the men. Something wasn't right. They were all on guard; not one of them was slacking off. While he could connect the men's alertness to discipline, a closer look at their faces told him it wasn't that at all. Their eyes were wide and anticipatory, like they were waiting for something...or someone?

And right smack in the middle of them was a tall woman. She was wearing a dark, skin-tight dress and she walked confidently among the men. What Dick thought to be a woman under guard was actually a woman under _armed escort. _She was never a hostage at all.

Then one of the guards glanced up.

Dick had a half-second to think, _Oh crap. _Then he was running along the girder with bullets buzzing all around him. One passed fairly close to his ear, leaving a line of heat that ruffled his hair. He suppressed the panic that was starting to bubble in his chest. Batman was coming. He only needed to be safe for seven minutes. His eyes darted to a stack of crates a few meters away, its top just one short leap away from a row of windows. If he could reach that stack-

A burst of fire shot through his side and he almost fell. But his arms managed to catch the beam at the last minute and he swung back up to safety. His side was screaming. He took a quick glance down but the men were still shooting at him; their bullets ricocheting all over with dull _pings_.

And it was that sound that alerted him.

The slug that hit him was lying nearby and he grabbed it, expecting to see blood. Instead, it remained black and dry, if maybe a little hot from being fired. And it was also slightly...malleable. Like rubber. The goons were armed with _rubber bullets_?

Another of the bullets bounced off an adjacent girder and hit him on the same side. This time, he couldn't catch himself.

In the second it took to fall, one arm went to shoot a jumpline while the other clutched at the burning on his side. The grapple caught on, barely keeping him from hitting the floor. Instead, he was swung towards the stack of crates he was aiming for. But the line was too long, the crates too near. He wasn't going up and over. He was going smack into the pile.

Dick made a desperate twist so he wouldn't hit the crate face-first. But his side shrieked and he ended up crushing his protective arm into the crate. He felt something give, before agony seared through him again. The world spun around him as both his side and his arm vied for attention. To cap things off, his stomach threatened to revolt. It was all he could do to keep his dinner and figure out which way was up.

When everything finally settled, he found himself lying face down on smooth cement, surrounded by combat boots. He didn't have to look up to know he had a dozen guns pointed at him too. Slowly, so as not to aggravate his side, he pushed himself up with his good arm. The other was throbbing and only added to the several complaints all over his body.

Then a pair of sandaled sun-bronzed feet broke through the boots.

"Sedate him. Then we leave. Do it quickly." The voice was rich, cultured, and feminine. He tried to sit up but one of the men grabbed him roughly by his good arm and hauled him to his feet. His vision tilted dizzily. His knees were rubber and wouldn't support him so he hung limply in the man's hold as he tried to tell the world to settle down. Then he felt a sharp sting on his arm and a sweeping numbness. _Batman- _He reached for his comms to signal an emergency - but he'd forgotten it was his broken arm that was reaching and the pain flared again and he...

...felt nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still don't own anyone but the minions.  
>Thanks: to InvisibleBrunette for the beta<p>

Notes: I split chapters based on shifts in POV. So some chapters may be shorter than others.

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><p>Batman raced for his partner's last coordinates, inwardly cursing his mistake. He shouldn't have decided to split up to watch both dock and locker; the moment he saw that Denny had underestimated the number of guards, he had a nagging feeling that something other than a smuggling deal was going on. And when he'd zoomed in to find one of the men tattooed with the insignia of the League of Assassins, the nagging feeling grew worse.<p>

He jumped for the next building, tucking into a ball the moment he landed. Barely a second later, he was running again for his partner. He'd already sent a coded message for Robin to stay put; but alarm shot through him when Robin messaged back that the guards had a hostage.

Bruce quickened his pace. The League of Assassins seldom held hostages; it was beneath them to show mercy and spare any innocent lives in pursuit of their goals. They had a simple rule when doing missions: the quicker, the better. Any civilians caught in the crossfire would be dealt with quietly and efficiently. It was what made them the most successful assassins in the world.

But what were they doing in Gotham Harbor, pretending to unload empty crates? Or stay in a storage locker with a civilian?

Mental discipline let him squash the self-recriminations away and he focused on going faster. He knew, that when the League of Assassins had a civilian among them, it didn't mean 'hostage.' It meant _bait. _Robin was headed for a trap _and he was on his own_. Bruce wanted to send him a message to abort, but he didn't dare distract his partner. With the number of men he'd glimpsed, Robin would need all his concentration.

The sixteenth locker finally came in sight; suspiciously dark and silent. There were no guards in sight.

His heart beat faster, his earlier alarm now a heavy weight in his stomach. The warehouse doors were closed but it could mean anything from a locker that was empty in the first place to a surprise waiting for him. But he didn't dare delay a second longer. He quickly switched his cowl lens to night vision, shot a grapple to the rooftop's edge, and swung towards a window big enough to fit him, crashing through the thin glass boots first. Silence greeted him. The floor was littered with discarded bullets. Robin was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Minions are mine.  
>Thanks: to InvisibleBrunette for the beta<p>

Notes: Okay, I guess I might as well post this chappie too since the previous one was short.

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><p>Dick clawed his way out of the dark. Bits and pieces of the world seeped in to tease him: harsh beeping from machinery, cooled air brushing past his skin, the smell of antiseptic. Somewhere in the room, a man and woman were talking and he didn't recognize the voices.<p>

"Will his injuries hamper his movements?" asked the woman. He recognized the same voice that gave the orders when he was caught.

"If not taken care of, yes," this one was male, clinical as though he couldn't care less what they were arguing about. "The boy is used to full mobility of all his limbs. Hindering one may prove to obstruct his ease of so-called 'flight.'"

"But he is still able to fight?"

"He appears well-trained, so I would say, yes. To a certain degree."

"Good. Continue with the next phase."

He still hadn't opened his eyes. And his mind felt sluggish. _Drugged._ There was a rush of air to his left, then a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Batman...?" he croaked involuntarily.

The woman spoke again, just above him and to his right. "Hush, child. Go back to sleep."

Then there was a sting on his neck. He tried to raise a hand in protest but it was heavy. Then he fell back into darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Owner of Minions, Inc.  
>Thanks: to InvisibleBrunette for the beta<p>

Notes: Chapters will longer, promise. Then final chappies become short again.

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><p>The storage warehouse had been cleaned. And quickly.<p>

Batman stalked through the building a final time, his cowl lenses scanning every inch for traces of evidence. Robin was taken. He wouldn't dare rest until he found the one clue that would lead him to where the Assassins had taken the boy.

His commlink beeped and he raised a hand to answer it. Even the jamming signal earlier was gone, leaving communications as clear as they had been. "What."

It was Wonder Woman. "_Batman, there's been reports of another underground laboratory involved in illegal research-"_

"I'm busy." He said curtly. "Have Canary dispatch the kids."

"_Wh-alright. What about Robin?"_

"What about him?"

"_Wouldn't the team need him for this mission?"_

Bruce paused in his sweep and took a silent breath, willing his urgency into a brief calm. Any hint of him not in control would raise the Amazon's suspicions and possibly attract attention from the rest of the League. Once he was sure his voice wouldn't waver, he said in a measured tone, "Robin is unavailable."

There was stunned silence from the other end of the comms. He knew - _the entire League knew - _that Robin was an important part of the covert team their kids formed. For an investigation into illegal research, Robin was not just important, he was _indispensable_. For Batman to withhold Robin from this type of investigation meant that the boy was sick or...

When Diana spoke again, her tone was softer, "_Bruce, if something happened to Robin-"_

He cut her off. "I will call the League if I need help."

Her sigh was transmitted clearly. "_Not just the League, Bruce. Don't forget his teammates."_

The comms clicked off. He immediately rejected the idea of bringing in the kids to help in the search for Robin. The training simulation months ago had shown that while the team has grown into a cohesive unit, the loss of one would deal a devastating blow to that cohesiveness. Batman wasn't sure how effective they'd still be with the news of Robin being taken. And he couldn't chance their rebelling and impeding _his _search. No, the kids will be sent on to investigate this lab while he worked on getting his partner back.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I only have minions.  
>Thanks: to InvisibleBrunette for the beta<p>

Notes: This is the chapter that pretty much started this whole fic ^^

Unleash the Shadow and Multiple personalities 1: Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad to know you like what I'm writing.

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><p>When Dick woke up this time, it was to a strange sort of hush. He couldn't hear any beeping or whirring of machinery working. He couldn't even hear any sounds of a busy city. The sterile smell was gone, but there was still cooled air blowing against him. He must have been put into an isolated room-<p>

"If you are trying to feign sleep, you've failed at it." Came a haughty voice, jolting his thoughts in surprise. "I knew you had awoken two seconds ago."

Dick cracked an eyelid open - it felt like he was lifting a ton - and was greeted by blank cement. He shifted his head.

A boy was glaring back at him, his arms crossed as though Dick was something not worthy of the air he breathed. He was dressed in a mostly white but with black underpants bodysuit and looked a few years younger than Dick, with short black hair and a slender frame that promised to develop into pure muscle when he grew up. The room's lighting was bright enough for him to see the boy's light-colored eyes but was too dim for him to discern the exact color.

"If you are supposed to be my final test," the boy continued, "you are doing a poor job of it."

"Test?" Dick sat up, wincing at the twinge in his side. It felt like he'd fractured another rib - probably from the bullets hitting him twice. The meeting with the crate hadn't helped. He tucked his broken arm against his side and found that along with dressing him in the same half-white, half-black pajamas, someone had also bandaged his torso. Another glance revealed that his arm had been taken care of too, with a slim cast that kept the limb still from wrist to elbow. He turned his attention back on the boy. "What kind of test?"

"Survival." The boy snorted. "Who will remain to become the rightful heir."

That...didn't answer his question at all. Still more questions arose in his mind as he tried to make sense of what the boy meant. His memories came rushing back and he methodically sorted through them. First, there was the suspected smuggling operation in the docks. Then he and Batman came to find more than the usual number of goons guarding the place - and one woman who wasn't a hostage _or _a civilian. What was her role in all this? Was she the mastermind? And why take him? As hostage to keep Batman from taking them down? Dick gave an inward snort. Fat chance of that; Bruce would find a hundred ways to help bring down the woman and whatever she's planning without showing up.

And then what's with this kid? Was he another hostage? And what was this about a test? The whole thing was getting weirder and weirder. Dick shook his head and held off the deductions at least until he knew more. First thing to do was to find out what this kid knows. "Become the heir to what? Who are you?"

"T-t." The boy gave him a disgusted look. "You cannot be a test if you are this ignorant."

"Look, I don't know what's this test you're talking about-"

"I know who you are." The boy interrupted. "You are Robin. Protégé to the Batman. Youngest member of the Justice League's team of sidekicks."

"We're not sidekicks!" He retorted, and then winced because he'd just confirmed that he _is_ Robin. But there was no help for that now; at least the boy didn't seem to know his _real _name. Speaking of which, Batman had said that they were a _covert_ team - one that only a handful of outsiders should know about. "And how do you know all that? Who _are _you, anyway?"

The boy crossed his arms over his chest. "My name is Damian."


	6. Chapter 6

Notes: Surprised by chapter5? Or perhaps intrigued? ;D I've gotten several comments on the shortness of my chapters so let me explain that the reason for that is because I split chapters with POV shifts. But from this point on, the chapters will be longer and short again by the end. Next chapter will show why I labeled this fic as 'slightly AUish' :)

the voiceless hyena: Well, I thought I'd left enough clues to hint that _he _would be showing up. I guess I made the clues too subtle for anyone but me (as author) to pick up -_-

Multiple Personalities 1, WhoKilledCockRobin, Penny Tortoiseshell, ajas136, and jayfeather63: Glad to still have you onboard. Chapter7 will be back to Robin once again :)

nancydrewgirl: Thanks for pointing that out. Now I have something to add to the sequel...if I do a sequel :P

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><p>Two days had passed and Batman was still no closer to finding where Robin was being held. He had found a few rubber bullets in the warehouse rafters and fibers from Robin's uniform wedged in a crate. He'd swabbed the dented crate on a hunch and was rewarded with traces of Dick's skin cells. There was also a cut-off jumpline looped above the stack. Dick must have been hiding among the steel beams when they found him and started shooting.<p>

Then, either he got hit by a bullet or he was trying to evade it, Dick fell. A last minute save by the grapple kept him from meeting the floor but not from meeting the pile of crates. And at his probable velocity, Bruce figured Dick must have one or two fractures from crashing into the sturdy crate and rolling down to lie in a heap on the ground where the League of Assassins surrounded him. Faced with so many trained assassins, it would be a simple matter for his partner to be sedated and taken away.

The whole thing took less than three minutes.

Bruce had been racing to reach the warehouse while the fight was going on. He estimated three to four minutes allotted for the assassins to clean up all evidence they could find then leave as quickly and as silently as possible. He placed two minutes at the most from the time the assassins left to the time he arrived. But in those two minutes, he didn't detect any moving vehicle in the vicinity, which means they could have taken to the air or went underground.

Satellite imaging showed no secret tunnels beneath the warehouse. So the assassins had a stealth jet big enough to carry several armed men, and fast enough to leave Gotham in three minutes. But other than the JLA's jets as well as his own Batwing, Bruce didn't know of others that had similar capabilities.

The League of Assassins must have its own jets.

Bruce slammed a fist onto the computer console in frustration. The League of Assassins was too well-funded to not pass up the opportunity to build its own vehicles. With enough money, it was a simple task to hire some of the best minds in the world - or gain that knowledge illegally - to build a squadron of jets. Hell, why not an army while they're at it? Being insanely wealthy opens a lot of doors, a fact that Bruce had proven time and time again. But it doesn't mean one can build expensive toys from nothing.

Bruce set the computer to search out bulk purchases of jet parts, cross-referencing the results with large tracts of land and suspicious funding. The good thing about modern civilization: everything leaves a money trail. The trick was in rooting it out. He also set the computer to analyze and trace large shipments of rubber bullets, Kevlar armor, and other non-lethal weapons.

An idea had come to him the moment he realized the assassins used rubber bullets. Non-metal ammunition would have less chance of killing Robin; and they were also used for target practice. Batman remembered the League of Assassins had recently had a setback with the Justice League shutting down their biological weapon manufacturing plant in Colorado. If the group was planning something again, it would be logical to believe that they would have to build up their ranks once again. Hence, they could have set up a training facility. Whether they took Robin to it or not would have to wait until he could find the facility.

There was a soft beep that signaled an incoming message.

Batman growled at the interruption but pulled up the message anyway. With the unpredictability of living as a superhero, the message could mean anything and everything.

"Batman," Kaldur greeted, his face filling a window on the large monitor. "We have retrieved the records from the facility you mentioned."

Batman hid a wince at yet another interruption to his search. He kept his face passive as he talked to Aqualad - it was his mission the kids had just completed and they will need to be debriefed. "Did you have any problems?"

"No..." a brief hesitation, ergo there was a minor problem that was possibly personal in nature and Aqualad was still considering whether to bring it to Batman's attention or not. "Alright, there was a minor setback," the Atlantean sighed. "Super- Conner. We found out what the laboratory is researching and he...did not take it well."

"What was the research?" Bruce asked deadpan. Conner reacting badly was nothing out of the ordinary. The clone might have mellowed in the past few months, but there was still a lot of rage hiding underneath. Bruce would have to step up his crusade in convincing the Boy Scout to take care of this matter soon.

"Genetic manipulation." Aqualad answered grimly. "Wally had mentioned that it stemmed from cloning research."

Batman had to frown at that. Genetic manipulation was mostly illegal when done on humans, and so was cloning. Cadmus had already shown their success in the G-gnomes and Superboy. But this kind of research demands huge funding and an uncertain profitability. Manipulating an organism by its genes tends to result in undesirable mutations - nature had her own way of copyrighting her work. What could an underground group want to achieve with this research?

"There is...something else..." Aqualad continued. "Some of the guards we had dispatched. We found this insignia on their uniforms." Another window popped up, showing a symbol that had burned itself in Bruce's thoughts for the past two days.

Batman shot to his feet. "Is the lab secured?"

"Y-yes," Kaldur replied, startled. "We have called the authorities upon learning of the illegal research and its employees are now in custody-"

"The lab itself. Is it empty?"

"I- yes. Miss Martian and Kid Flash were able to retrieve the lab's records as well as its research before the fire reached the main computers-"

"Send all the information to me. Batman out."

The window with Aqualad's face faded and Batman quickly typed several commands into the computer, making all relevant information about the underground lab a priority. He pulled up addresses of several sister-sites, their owners, and the research being done in each. But most of all, he had the computer trace down the labs' funding to its main source. He had a hunch about the facilities' single proprietor and what they planned on using the research for. Bruce was not a particularly religious man, but for now, he prayed that his hunch was wrong.


	7. Chapter 7

Notes: Well, I can only hope I did right and the story's becoming more intriguing by the chapter.

KaliAnn: I did mention I tried to make things as plausible as I can. Still, I gotta apologize for the quasi-science bits ^^;

ZenRay: Welcome aboard! It's gonna be an interesting ride ;)

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><p>"Pathetic." Damian snorted as Dick stuck an ear on the door's edge. "Even if you manage to escape this cell, you will find yourself facing hundreds of trained assassins before you could even step out of this compound." He gave a pointed glance at the cast on Dick's arm. "And with your injuries, you would be defeated in seconds."<p>

Dick glared at him from his position by the door. "I'm not a slave or a puppet for the League of Assassins. Unlike you, who'd rather sit quietly and wait for your food to come to you."

"And why should I find that offensive? By my birthright, I am entitled to be waited upon hand and foot."

"In other words," Dick turned back to listening through the locked door, "you're lazy."

"How dare you call me a sloth! You are nothing but an inept imbecile!"

"And I call 'em as I see 'em." Dick shot back. "Now shut up. I'm trying to listen."

"T-t." Dick could hear the rustle of cloth that signaled the other kid must have crossed his arms. "They've moved to the end of the hall. You are listening for nothing."

Dick glared at him, "I'm _listening_ for the next-" He choked off the rest of his retort when Damian's words sunk in. "Moved to the- How would you know that? I'm right beside the door and I can barely hear them."

Damian tilted his head back to look down his nose at Dick. "I am genetically engineered to be superior to norms like you. My senses have been enhanced to exceed yours."

Dick's eyes widened at the implications. The kid being genetically engineered generally meant... "You mean, they _made _you? Like...like a _toy_?"

Damian flinched - it was subtle but to Dick's trained eyes it was obvious. "Not a toy. A weapon. An _assassin_." He scowled back as if daring Dick to disbelieve him.

But Dick was too busy ogling him. It wasn't the first time he'd encountered the result of someone playing God - like Cadmus and Superboy. Some people were arrogant enough to _not _want to play by the rules; arrogant enough to want to remake the world in their image. And even though Conner had mentioned that he was made to 'replace' Superman should the superhero go rogue, he knew that _replace _was also a synonym for _supplant_. Dick shut his jaw with an effort and frowned suspiciously at the kid. "You're not made from scratch, are you?"

Damian glared at him in annoyance. "I have a father. And a mother." He shifted his gaze to the floor, clearly uncomfortable by the way his legs fidgeted. "I am not cloned, but merely _changed._"

At that word, Dick finally understood. "You were customized?" He whispered in horror. "That's even _worse_."

Damian leaped to his feet, face twisted in rage. "I am not to be judged by you!"

Then he lunged.

Dick barely had enough time to jump over the kid. He threw out his uninjured arm while in mid-air, then pushed himself off the floor again in a handspring. Then he twisted and landed on his feet facing Damian's back. "Hey, I wasn't judging-"

But Damian wasn't listening. The kid pivoted and came at Dick again. In the cell's confined space, it was all Dick could do to sidestep and jump out of Damian's reach. The kid was fast. _Very _fast. Obviously, enhanced senses weren't just the advantages whoever held them gave the kid. And at this rate, it was only a matter of time until Dick couldn't dodge a hit.

"Could we just talk a min-" He dove away from a high kick.

Then it happened. His ribs screamed with agony that took his breath away. He landed awkwardly on his casted arm. Fire blazed through his torso as he hissed in pain. A shadow loomed over him. Dick glanced up, seeing the intense anger in Damian's eyes. They held no regret, no hesitation at all. It was like Dick was a bug that needed to be swatted. The kid drew back a fist.

"I'm sorry, okay!" Dick blurted.

The fist paused. Damian stared at him, not even breathing hard. Dick decided to take advantage of the pause and continued, "Look, I wasn't judging you. What they did to you...this genetic engineering..." he waved weakly at Damian using his good arm, "it's not right. You're a kid! You're not a lab rat to be experimented on!"

The fist remained raised and Damian still glared at him. A moment passed, then two. And finally, Damian relaxed.

"T-t. You're useless in your current condition." He said sullenly, taking a step back.

Dick exhaled in relief, grunting when his ribs protested again. "I mean it, though. You're what, ten? You're just a kid."

A small but calloused hand thrust into his vision. Dick hesitated for a second then took the proffered hand. With strength belying the kid's smaller frame, Damian pulled him to his feet. The moment Dick could stand on his own though, the kid leaned close and growled, "I am not a child to be coddled. Do not call me a 'kid' again."

"But you are though! Like..." Dick's mind scrambled for something he could relate to Damian's situation: he was a kid created from two tiny organisms, grown in a tank, and trained to kill ever since he was deemed 'old enough'. What could- Then he got it. "Like Superboy!"

Damian's glare faded as he tilted his head in curiosity. "Superboy? Your teammate?"

Dick nodded. "When we found him in Cadmus, he wasn't allowed to think for himself. All Desmond did was shout orders at him and he couldn't do anything but follow them. He was being treated like a...well, like a weapon."

Damian shifted closer, his eyes gazing at him with interest. "Go on."

And Dick told him about the day he, Roy, Wally, and Kaldur were supposed to finally become members of the Justice League only to be treated like they were rookies - _sidekicks,_ how he hacked into the League's computers, and how they met Superboy. All the while, Damian watched him with his hands on his knees, looking so much like a kid during story-time.


	8. Chapter 8

Notes: I can only apologize for the quasi-science.

Reina Grayson: Glad to have you back. Once again, I only post a fic if it's finished. So updates will be everyday unless I get lazy or RL comes in to trample my plans :)

KaliAnn: I'm glad you think Damian's still acting like a kid. I have to admit, I have trouble writing kid characters. They end up being too mature or grown up sounding -_-

jayfeather63, Puma22, ajas136: Exciting times are still ahead, so stay tuned! ;)

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><p>It was an elaborate decoy; an expensive, large, and egotistical decoy. Batman had searched every inch of the sprawling compound in the hopes it would lead him to Robin or the League of Assassins but to no avail. The rest of the kids' team bristled at his pulling rank on their own follow-up investigation but there was no help for it. Batman was going to find his protégé and he can do it without help.<p>

If...he can find the boy before the assassins manage to do irreversible changes to him.

Aqualad was right though. The resulting damage from Superboy's rage made the raided lab's computers unsalvageable. He was glad the team had managed to pull out the data before they were wiped out. The data had included developing research into changing DNA strands with hints of the formulae found in the Kobra Venom drug. It was obvious that while the team and the Justice League had taken down the so-called Injustice League, there were still smaller cells of the organization operating. Batman would have to intensify his search to root out all branches of this group.

Later. Right now, the priority was to find Robin. And he can do that better without interference from the figures shadowing him.

"You need to work on your stealth." He called over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around.

Several pairs of footsteps stomped closer, boot heels dragging at the fact that they were caught out. One pair, a lot softer than the others considering he was going barefoot, came up and only stopped when he was three feet away from Batman.

"We apologize for going behind your back..." Aqualad's smooth tone was schooled to hide his inner tension - there was strain in his voice that was obvious only to someone listening for it. Bruce had approved Kaldur's maturity and calmness in leading a team of young boys into stressful situations. But the Atlantean's composure was flimsy when faced with multiple crises.

"I never asked you to accompany me on my search." Batman growled.

"But you didn't tell us not to." Superboy spoke up and the strain in his voice was far, far more noticeable than the Atlantean's.

Batman finally turned and glared at the five teenagers facing him. "This isn't a mission-"

"We know Rob's missing!" Kid Flash blurted out. He barely seemed to take a breath as he explained, "Superboy overheard Black Canary telling Wonder Woman that you're not usually so anti-social unless it has something to do with Robin and that _Wonder Woman's _worried that something happened to him so we- that is, the team and I - got our heads together and figured the only reason why Rob's not helping us with the mission is because he's sick or-"

"Or currently missing." Artemis continued for him. "_We _also figured out that you wouldn't be so tight-lipped about this _research,_" she made air-quotes with her fingers, "if Robin was available."

"And he'd still answer any calls on the comms even if he was sick." Kid Flash concluded a little smugly. "I should know. I've already tried it once."

"And so we have deduced," Aqualad held out a hand to calm his teammates, "that Robin has been taken and that," he waved to indicate the ruined lab they were in, "from your single-mindedness in investigating this place, whoever ran the facility were the ones who took him."

Batman tilted his head, acknowledging their correct theory. He felt a bit of pride that the kids were doing very well if they could out-guess even _him_. But they were still interfering when he practically made it clear that he didn't want to be disturbed. If these kids were given pats on the back for every time they felt the need to meddle in others' business, who knows what they'll end up as?

"Please, Batman," Miss Martian took a step closer. "We understand that you need to do this yourself but, Robin's our_ teammate_! We just want to help him."

And then again, who knows if the kids will end up stronger for standing up for what they believe is the right thing to do?

"Fine." He declared, suppressing a smirk as their one-second-triumph got squashed by his next words: "But you follow my lead and you _don't _get in my way."

"Agreed." Aqualad nodded solemnly. "We will abide by your rules. For now, what do we need to search for?"

"Anything to indicate where the League of Assassins might have taken Robin."

That announcement brought surprised looks from the kids. Bruce felt a little satisfied that he'd managed to keep this tidbit from them even if they'd managed to speculate correctly the rest of the situation.

"Wait, the _League of Assassins_?" Artemis spoke up, her voice rising in disbelief. "You mean, they're the ones in charge of this place?"

"Whether they are directly controlling its operations or not, there is still evidence that they are involved."

"But...but didn't we just find this lab doing illegal experiments on _genetics_?"

The horrified silence that greeted her statement brought to them just how urgent it is to find his partner and rescue him from a fate he could hardly imagine. In the myriad of scenarios his imagination came up with, death would be a mercy.

"We'll find him." Miss Martian interrupted his thoughts with an encouraging smile.

Bruce didn't bother to grace that with a verbal reply. It was on everyone's minds after all, the question as to whether they'll still find his partner alive and unhurt.


	9. Chapter 9

Notes: It gets better.

Reina Grayson and KaliAnn: As I promised :D

jayfeather63, pepperonyluverlol and jadedone: Hope this chapter still meets your expectations! :)

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><p>The meal they sent that day was still as tasteless as the previous ones both boys had been given. Dick wanted to complain about the lack of kitchen creativity but the guards never stayed long enough to talk, never stayed long enough to be taken advantage of in a daring escape. But Damian robotically went about his meals in quick, efficient strokes. In two minutes flat, the kid had finished the aluminum plate of nameless mush while Dick stared at him in wonder.<p>

"What." Damian shot at him in irritation.

"You...you couldn't have found that _delicious_, could you?"

The kid studied him for a moment then gave an annoyed huff. "It is food filled with nutrition necessary for a developing assassin and easily digestible. Whatever it tastes like does not matter."

"But...are they seriously giving us _this_ for however long we're staying here?" Dick dubiously spooned a small amount of mush and let it plop back down to rejoin its mushy friends. "Just one helping of this and I'm already missing M'gann's cookies ala burnt." The silence that greeted his comment was suspicious and he glanced up to find Damian staring at the wall. "Damian?"

The kid didn't face him as he admitted, "...I do not recall ever being given a cookie."

It was Dick's turn to stare at him in surprise. "No cookies? Not even a chocolate bar? Candy?"

"Empty calories. I do not need to waste resources digesting such."

Dick's surprise turned into incredulity. "Of course you don't eat them for their nutrition value! They're snacks! You eat them because they're _tasty_. And because they make you feel good."

Damian crossed his arms, throwing him a glare. "I don't see how ingesting junk would make you feel better. But I can see that if you will not eat your meal, you will be further weakened by the end of the day and prolong your recovery."

"You need a reconditioning, stat." Dick sighed and dug into his mush without joy.

"Eat faster." Damian uncrossed his arms stood to face the door. "We will be leaving in five minutes."

"Leaving? You mean-"

"Four minutes."

Irked at Damian's being secretive about his plans, Dick attacked the mush with a vengeance and finished in less than two minutes. He climbed to his feet and kept his gaze on the kid. "What are you planning?"

"I am planning to leave this captivity. The guard who will be coming to take our plates is slow to react. And he will be alone. They have grown complacent in their alertness."

"How did you-?"

Damian gave another annoyed huff. "I've told you before: enhanced hearing. And I know the capabilities of most of the guards assigned to this compound." He glared at Dick. "Do you want to escape or not?"

Of course, Dick should have realized this sooner. Damian had probably grown up in this place, and trained to become a deadly assassin since birth. Obviously, the kid should have a mental map of the entire compound as well as profiles of the people staffing it. But something was bothering him...

"Okay, better question: why are you helping me?"

"I am not helping you. I am helping myself." Annoyed snort. "I have decided that I will not be kept in a box. And you will show me the world outside of this compound." Damian barely turned his head to glance at him over a shoulder. "Like your Superboy."

And realization slapped him in the face with a large trout. Damian was in the exact same situation as Conner when they'd first found him. Why, he was even wearing something like the white solar suit! Dick couldn't help the smile that graced his face, thrilled that he had thought of someone the kid could relate to and that Damian was actively helping to escape. "Like Superboy," he agreed, nodding, "and he's not mine, by the way."

"T-t. Details."

Their breakout went without a hitch. The guard that was sent to take their plates was slow, as Damian said, and with two highly-trained fighters, the man was quickly overpowered and left trapped inside the cell they were in. Dick and Damian didn't waste a single second gloating and quickly made their way through the halls.

Damian took the lead. It made sense that he would since he knew his way around the miles and miles of blank corridors. Dick would be lost within an hour. But Damian moved with confidence and Dick decided to follow him. It briefly occurred to him that Damian could betray him but he hid that thought in a box to open later. Soon enough, the kid brought them to a locked door marked only with an 'A5'.

There was a small panel beside the door. Damian's fingers hovered on the keypad a moment before his fingers started pushing buttons in a blur. The panel beeped once, and the kid stepped back. He cleared his throat and spoke in a deep bass tone, "Solvatre."

_Acknowledged. Lt. Solvatre, Division 37._ The mechanized voice said and the locked door began sliding open.

Dick was awed. "You can imitate voices?"

Damian nodded. "Enough to pass through mid-level security clearances. Now, come."

They entered a large room filled with metal shelves and pegged walls. Lights came on automatically and lit on numerous boxes and crates arranged into neat rows. Dick was about to take a closer look at the boxes when he caught sight of what was hung on those pegged walls: guns, grenades, rifles, swords, and other weapons Dick couldn't name. From there it wasn't a long leap to realize what the boxes on the shelves contained and a quick glance at one box's label confirmed his theory. Cold dread began to settle in his stomach as his eyes darted through rack upon rack of displayed arms and boxes of ammunition, barely registering what he was as he mentally estimated the artillery presented before him.

"What is all this?" he whispered in horror. His estimate numbered in the hundreds; there were enough weapons in this single room to arm a small army.

"Artillery Storage 5." Damian explained, striding deeper into the room without a glance at the weaponry surrounding him. "There are seven such storage rooms in this compound alone."

"Seven?" Dick squeaked. "But, that's enough to arm an entire country! What are these people preparing for? War?"

"Yes."

Dick's jaw snapped shut. He knew what that one word meant: that there would be more Waynes and more Graysons in the world if these people started mobilizing; more Artemises whose siblings disappeared into the world. And not to mention, there would be even more orphaned Bruces and Dicks who could never celebrate Mother's Day or Father's Day or especially Christmas the same way again. He couldn't let that happen. Not to anyone else.

"Over here." Damian's voice broke through his thoughts.

Dick walked over to the kid and found him holding out a familiar, yellow strap. "My utility belt!" He snatched the belt from Damian and immediately began checking on its contents. So far, he'd found that except for one, his captors hadn't bothered to mess with the belt's defenses. They must have tried fiddling with it once then given up when they triggered the electric shock that was the first built-in safety measure. That was a good thing because not only was his arsenal of weapons un-depleted, it also meant his belt was undamaged. The second safety measure installed in case the belt fell into enemy hands was a self-destruct sequence that would blow up everything within a ten-foot radius. Bruce had drilled into him how important his belt is not only because it could lead anyone into Batman's and Robin's identities, but also because the gadgetry in there could take down the Justice League.

Well, only if they knew what they were doing.

"Hurry!" Damian hissed. "We have five minutes left before the guards find our cell empty."

Dick secured the belt around his waist, his fingers brushing over an unfamiliar bump in one of the pouches. It took him a moment to remember the two granola bars he'd packed before leaving for patrol that night. Bruce had warned him they would have a several hours' long stakeout and Dick made sure to bring something for it. Just in case.

Which reminds him, Dick must have been missing for days now. The cell he and Damian had been kept in was windowless so he couldn't track the time if it wasn't for the regular mush being sent to them. He counted two meals a day and calculated that he'd been missing for almost a week. Bruce must be worried sick.

"Are you done?" Damian asked impatiently.

"Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on." Dick muttered and followed after the kid.

"I _am _wearing my shirt. And I do not see why you would want me to remove it either."

"It's a figure of speech." Dick sighed, exasperated. "Didn't they teach you any slang or idioms?"

"Unnecessary."

"That is so not whelming."

"And I do not see what my education has to do with being submerged in water."

Dick fought the urge to slap his forehead. Not only did these people keep Damian from the joys of eating sweets, they'd also neglected to teach him culture. "Never mind. I'll explain it later when we get out of here."

Damian nodded and preceded him to the exit. They had reached halfway when the kid suddenly froze, his head slightly cocked as though listening for something. "Guards. Four of them. They were expecting us to retrieve your belt."

Dick cursed, his uninjured hand reaching down to grab batarangs but Damian held his hand. "Wait here."

The kid crept back to where they had entered, crouching just beside the door as soon as he reached the opening. Dick couldn't see anyone through the doorway but he carefully shifted to the left, several steps behind Damian and closer to the wall. If there were armed guards out there, he didn't want to be in the line of fire. He watched Damian, trusting that the kid knew what he was doing and keeping his ears alert for any sound.

Damian was moving before it could register in Dick's mind that something had changed. One moment the kid was there, still as a statue, and in the next half-second he was gone. Dick could hardly believe anyone could move that fast unless you were one of the speedsters, but Damian obviously debunked that belief. Enhanced agility and sensory abilities; Dick shook his head at the growing number of Damian's 'gifts.' The people running this place were obviously working on creating their own Superman - only one that was neither a metahuman nor an alien. And Damian was one of the results.

Or was he the only one?

Then the sound of guns firing interrupted his thoughts and Dick darted for the open doorway. What he saw outside though, he wasn't expecting. Bullet holes riddled the walls of the hallway, spent shell casings were scattered everywhere. And among the casings... four armored guards lay prone on the floor, limbs in awkward angles.

There was a near-silent shuffle behind him.

Dick whirled around and found himself facing a pair of stormy blue eyes - a shade of blue that was so familiar he found himself starting to whisper someone's name but for a second, he couldn't recall whose name it was on the tip of his tongue. He shook his head to clear the fog but the memory still eluded him. The only name he could recall right now was-

"Damian?"

The kid stared back haughtily, his arms crossed. He jerked his chin towards the prone guards. "These four must be lazy in their training. It took me three seconds to bring them to their knees."

Dick glanced at the guards, then back to Damian. The guards neither moved nor did they make a noise and Damian had admitted to being assassin-trained... Dick could hardly force the words out, but he knew he had to ask, "Did you... Are they...dead?"

"T-t." Damian strode past him to kick one of the guards. To Dick's relief, the guard breathed but remained unconscious. "These are too incompetent, killing them would be an effort. They should not have sent these types to attack me."

Dick smiled and clapped a hand on the kid's shoulder. "Or maybe they didn't think you'd be escaping with me."

Damian shrugged off his hand and it was then that Dick noticed the thin line of red across the kid's cheek. "You're bleeding."

"He managed to pull the trigger once before falling unconscious," Damian nudged another guard with his foot. "It was a miscalculation on my part. I will endeavor not to repeat it."

"Hey, I'm not judging you for it. You took them down in three seconds and didn't kill them." Dick retrieved the mini first aid kit in his belt. "That's plenty good enough for me. Now, don't move." He grabbed Damian's chin and smeared antiseptic on the inch long gash. Then he applied a colorless band-aid on the wound, not letting show how nervous Damian was making him when the kid was closely watching his every move. "There. All done."

Damian reached up to touch the bandage with a finger. His eyes were curious as he stared back at Dick. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"This is merely a flesh wound. Why the need to care for it?"

Dick shrugged, packing the first aid kit away. "Trust me; you don't want to risk it getting infected. You don't know where those bullets have been." He grinned.

"It will heal in two days." Damian scoffed. "Hardly enough time for an infection to set in."

Dick mentally slapped himself. Of course, given the kid's other enhancements, it shouldn't surprise him that faster-than-normal healing was added to the list. What other surprises are in store for him? "I don't like to see you hurt any more than necessary, alright? So, which way's the exit?"


	10. Chapter 10

Notes: Like I said, quasi-science is quasi. I tried to make the details as un-detailed as possible but I know I made several errors there. I can only hope the fic is still believable in its way.

KaliAnn, Reina Grayson, and jayfeather63: What you're looking for is in the next chapter! :D

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><p>With the kids' help, the train of suppliers, fake corporation fronts, and sister facilities were rapidly pared down to one compound in the forested area of a small county to the east. County records say that the land had been bought and paid for by one Sunstrike Corporation - one of the discovered fronts for the League of Assassins. Blueprints and aerial surveillance showed that the compound itself was already several miles wide, but Bruce knew that that was only the tip. Most of the group's operations would be hidden deep underground.<p>

"It's Cadmus all over again." Superboy grumbled, his arms crossed as he glared at the scattered reports in Mount Justice's holographic screens.

"I would agree with you, my friend," Aqualad scanned the documents on display, "but I do not see any projects where they are breeding new life forms."

"That's because they're not!" Kid Flash stepped up, pointing towards a screen that was displaying a DNA helix and several chemical strains. "They're not reproducing cells. They're messing around with it! See this? They're isolating specific traits and splicing them with others. And this? These are the same chemicals used in the Kobra Venom formula."

"You mean they're making more of this drug and _improving_ it?" Artemis demanded.

"No." Batman strode forward and changed the display. "They're using different formulae. Kobra Venom isn't the only drug evident in the research."

"All to what purpose?" Aqualad asked, his tone hesitant as though he feared what the answer would be. And he would be right; if the League of Assassins were doing as Bruce feared, the implications would be...horrible to think about.

Bruce shoved that thought away. Dick would be waiting. And Batman would be coming for him; no matter what. He opened a secure line to the Watchtower. "Batman to the Justice League. I need all available members to rendezvous at these coordinates. Batman out." He turned to the kids. "Get to the bioship. We'll meet with the League one mile away from the compound." Then he stalked towards the hangar.

"Batman?" Bruce paused at Aqualad's call. "You...did not answer my question. To what purpose are these research experiments?"

Bruce hesitated to tell them anything; no matter how many missions this team had completed, they were still kids, still prone to making mistakes. And yet they would make even more errors in judgment if they came in blind. No, it would be better if the kids knew what they would be up against.

"Enhancement." He said bluntly. "The League of Assassins was testing for the enhancements given by Venom, Blockbuster, as well as various other drugs only without side effects like extreme muscular development or hardened skin. And they were testing for growth."


	11. Chapter 11

Notes: I actually finished this fic before I got my hands on issue#11 of the Young Justice comic. Any mistakes are entirely my own.

ajas136 and KaliAnn: It's showtime! :D

DatSilentAnon: Well, I didn't think about the consequences of the age difference until someone pointed it out to me. So I'll have to make it a point to explain that in the sequel heh. And sorry, but I can't see Timmy in this AU. Maybe if I get an idea on how to incorporate him.

Zenray: I only post fics when I'm done with them, hence the quick updates hehehe.

Viet Devil: Yup, just that one clue and it's obvious who it is lol.

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><p>The alarm had definitely been tripped. There were no klaxons or flashing red lights but the entire compound had been put unto heightened alert. Damian pushed Dick into a darkened alcove just in time to avoid a group of guards rushing past.<p>

"How far is it to the exit?" Dick panted, pressing his arm against his throbbing rib. It was healing - slowly - and all the running around was not doing it any favors. He silently wished again for his reinforced uniform instead of these white pajamas he and Damian wore. The things were too thin to provide much support for his ribs. He didn't know how Conner could stand wearing them 24/7.

"The express elevators will be monitored closely." Damian explained, eyes alert for more guards coming through. "The service ones are slow and will have more chances of being stopped. We are heading for the staircases." He turned to Dick. "Do you have your grapple?"

Dick nodded. "Sure. But I might not have enough rope if we're too far down."

"We aren't. This compound was built deep below the surface, but there was no necessity to go deeper than thirty levels."

"And...which level are we on?"

"Sixteenth."

"What, they're not keeping us in the dungeons on the thirtieth?" Dick joked.

Damian simply snorted and turned back to the hallway. "There are no dungeons in this compound. And the last levels hold the morgue as well as other unsavory operations."

Dick's jaw shut with a snap at the kid's matter-of-fact tone. He didn't know whether to approve or be disturbed that a terrorist organization had a morgue in its basement levels. Though it would make sense to have one to keep employee deaths a secret...or failed lab experiments. His back shuddered at the thought that one of those experiments could have been the kid sitting beside him.

"The thermo-suits are made to regulate temperature." Damian remarked, seeing his shudder. "You should not be feeling cold."

Dick shook his head. "No, I was...thinking _un_-asterous thoughts."

Damian's eyebrows furrowed. "I do not understand what you meant."

"It's just an expression." Dick waved off the kid's frown, making a mental note to teach the kid about the ways of being _cool_. "Which way do we go?"

"Left."

They ran on for minutes. Dick's fractured rib was practically screaming now and it was all he could do to keep up with Damian. It was obvious the kid could run for miles without breaking a sweat. Still, Dick somehow found some reserve of energy and sped his pace. Then, as if realizing that Dick was falling behind, Damian stopped and ducked under his arm. Dick grunted at the kid's hand around his waist - it was pressing tightly against his injured side before relenting - and with the kid's support, their pace doubled.

Soon enough, they reached the stairwell leading to the upper levels. Dick brought out his grappling gun and raised it, wincing when the stretching pressed on his protesting rib.

"T-t. I will do it." Damian snatched the gun from his hand. The kid's free hand went around Dick's waist again. "Hold on to me."

The gun fired. They both waited for the telltale clink of the grapple securing itself as it sped into the chamber straight up; Dick hoping that his line would have enough length to reach the top. The kid's arm remained secure around him, firm but gentle on his fractured rib. He didn't want to think it but, with his current condition, he was holding Damian back from escaping successfully. His rib kept pounding out waves of pain through his torso and he could only move one arm. As things stand, he was glad Damian wanted to bring him along on his escape. Dick didn't know what he would do if the kid had left him behind.

Then he heard it: a distant chink from above. The grapple line went taut and Damian tightened his grip. Dick barely followed the kid's example before they both shot upwards past several flights of staircases. When the line was nearly done retracting, they both leaned back to swing towards the final landing. Their feet hit cement flooring at the same time and Damian half-turned to push the button for the grapple's quick release before silently handing it back to Dick.

"How'd you even know how to operate this?" Dick asked with a raised eyebrow as put the gun back in its pouch.

"Physics and engineering." Damian replied, heading for the door. "I can speculate on the design of your grapple gun when I watched brief video footage of you and Batman."

Dick stared at the kid's back, trying not to feel the slightest bit intimidated but failing. Smarts, speed, endurance, and even healing...Damian could have been the Superman of Earth if Clark hadn't crash-landed first. Given a few years, even Bruce would have a time fighting against Damian - not that Dick doubted Bruce. Sure, the kid might be a bio-engineered metahuman but Bruce made it a habit to study all the metas he came across with and plan ways on defeating them. All Bruce needed was to find one weakness...

But it still reminded Dick of the fact that Damian...didn't come into his attributes by any natural means. He claimed to have parents, a mom and dad, that he wasn't just created to follow an inherited blueprint like Conner. It was natural for parents to want their child to be the best but to actually genetically engineer him to be better than 'best'? That was just wrong.

"I do not hear anything beyond this door." Damian said, prompting Dick to step closer. "From this point, the door leading outside is at the end of the hall to the right. We can reach it in less than a minute if we both run." He gave a pointed glance at Dick's bandaged torso. "I can support you if you cannot proceed."

Dick opened his mouth to protest but then thought better of it. They were breaking out of a highly guarded facility that was on the alert for their escape. They'll need all the speed they could get, aching rib or not. He nodded at the kid. "We can go faster if you did."

And so, unbroken arm once again around Damian's shoulders, Dick braced himself for a run as the kid kicked the door open-

-and all thoughts of running fled in the face of several rifles aimed at them both. Dick slowly dropped his arm from Damian, raising it in a gesture of surrender. His broken arm remained by his side - the immobile cast meant that he wouldn't be able to use it anytime soon.

"Thick door, heavily padded uniform," a woman said, striding forward from behind the masked guards facing them. Two of the men had to part to let her through. "Despite all our enhancements, you still have weaknesses to exploit."

The moment she stepped in front of the semi-circle of guards, Dick found himself staring at her familiar bronze skin and long brown hair. "You're the one at the storage warehouse!"

"I'm pleased to finally meet you, Robin," the woman smiled, "Yes, I was the one who ordered you to be captured and brought here."

"Why?"

"Because..." her gaze drifted past Dick and spotted Damian standing beside him, his arms crossed over his chest instead of raised in surrender like Dick's, "I see you have Damian with you. I had wondered why an accomplished boy as him would take his time escaping the compound."

"I am right here." Damian grumbled. "Do not speak as though I cannot hear you, Mother."

" 'Mother'?" Dick's eyes widened. This...this woman was Damian's mom?

As if reading his thoughts, the woman nodded. "My name is Talia al Ghul. I am the daughter of Ra's al Ghul."

"The guy who leads the League of Assassins!" Dick had to take a step back from surprise. Ra's and the League of Assassins have been hinted at in every successful high-profile assassination Batman had compiled in the Crays. There were even rumors that Cheshire's League of Shadows was allied with them. And now here he is: in a facility owned by the League of Assassins, with Ra's daughter in front, his _grandson _to his right, and a half-dozen armed guards surrounding him. Dick was officially and stupendously _overwhelmed _now.

"Come, we have things to discuss." Talia said and turned away. The guards allowed her through then their rifles swiveled to aim at Dick. "Any sudden moves from you, Damian," she called over her shoulder, "and my men will shoot. I do not like to have guns aimed at my son, but I have no qualms about young Robin."

"T-t."

"I'll be good." Dick said lightly, even if he didn't like having six guns pointed at him either.

They made a strange procession: Talia at the head, followed by a sullen Damian, and Dick with guards flanking him and behind him. His back twitched with all the targets on him. But Damian did as he was told and refrained from doing anything except follow his mother. The rifles stayed silent and Dick, hole-free.

Talia led them to a large lecture room sparsely decorated with plain colored rugs and neutral paintings. A large desk stood at the front of the room on a raised dais, empty white board behind it and a rolling chair in front. The rest of the room was filled with five long tables that had six chairs each, all facing the front. Talia moved to the raised platform as Dick and Damian entered.

Damian moved past the front long table and stood facing his mother, his arms once again crossing. Dick decided to follow suit and stood beside him, the edge of the table high enough to press against his lower back. The guards fanned out to cover him from all sides. Dick shifted his weight to his other foot, still uneasy about the guns; but mother and son kept staring at each other with Talia looking down from the dais.

A minute or two passed then Talia unwound enough to take the lone seat at the front of the room.

As soon as she settled, she ordered the guards, "Leave us."

The guards hesitated; then as one, they lifted their rifles and filed out the door. Dick let out a sigh of relief at the loss of the loaded guns pointed at him. He swore he could feel his back itch from the intensity of the guards' stares. But he quickly tensed again when Talia turned her attention not to him, but to Damian.

"I'm surprised you didn't kill Robin, my son," she said. "He is the false heir to my Beloved's fortunes and your lone rival."

" 'Rival?'" Dick protested. "When did I become a contender to someone's riches and what am I contending for?"

Talia turned an amused gaze to him. "You haven't figured it out? You who are not of my Beloved's bloodline and yet stands to inherit all that he holds dear?"

"Who're you calling..." It dawned on him then, the so-called rivalry, his supposed inheritance, and the color of Damian's eyes. He realized, at that moment, whose name it was he was trying to recall when he saw Damian's eyes for the first time and the reason why he had difficulty remembering it: Bruce had never looked up at him closely without the cowl. It was always him looking up, and Bruce looking down to meet his gaze without crouching. "_Bruce? _Damian's father is _Bruce Wayne_?"

Talia nodded her lips quirking up in a smile that said she was planning something but would never tell what it was. Dick had learned that whenever someone smiled like that, it meant that they were not to be trusted. And he was _not _trusting the daughter of Ra's al Ghul.

Damian stepped forward, his arms still crossed. "I would like to learn more about the world, Mother. I cannot learn everything I need here." He jerked his chin to indicate Dick. "And he goes with me."

Talia still kept that enigmatic smile. "You have grown fond of the circus orphan?"

"Hey-!"

"You have withheld information from me," Damian replied, ignoring Dick's protest. "You have told me stories about Father, but not about his partner. From the four days we have been together, _the circus orphan_ has taught me much."

The mysterious smile grew bigger as Talia gracefully rose to her feet. Dick felt his heart skip a beat as he thought that she was going to order him to be killed now. Her dark eyes were twinkling as she said, "Very well. You will find that the East Entrance is unguarded due to a disturbance outside." She leveled her smile at Dick. "Teach my son well, Richard Grayson."

Dick was stunned. "Y-you know my name?"

"Of course. My father has known of Beloved's secret for a long time. But neither of us has plans of revealing it and cause undue complications to his life."

"But-"

"We are leaving, Grayson." Damian grabbed his uninjured arm and slung it around his shoulders again. The kid gave a final glance back at Talia. "Goodbye, Mother."

"Take care, my son."


	12. Chapter 12

Notes: Almost done! This fic is only fifteen chapters long :)

Reina Grayson: He still won't appear in the sequel either. Maybe when the muse slaps me with an interesting trout.

jayfeather63: If you had problems signing in, that's alright. Leave a semi-anonymous review and I'll respond in the next chapter ;)

dv: No, that wasn't the last chapter.

ajas136 and KaliAnn: Just a few more chapters to go and I'm still keeping things intense :)

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><p>They gathered at the coordinates Batman sent: Flash, Green Lantern, Capt. Marvel, Black Canary, Martian Manhunter, Wonder Woman, and Superman.<p>

At first, the kids were overjoyed at the sight of two of their mentors and their trainer but their enthusiasm was quickly curbed when Batman stepped out of his jet.

"I called you all here because of two things," Batman began. "One, the League of Assassins has been busy recreating the enhancements given by the Kobra Venom formula plus several other drugs. There is a high probability that we will be facing genetically modified humans; stronger, tougher, but highly unstable."

The seven League members' faces quickly went from curious to grim. Experience had taught these heroes what it meant to meddle with nature - oftentimes, nature bites back _hard. _It was always distressing to have to fight humans gone berserk from unnatural mutations.

"And the second thing?" Superman asked, studiously avoiding looking at his clone. Bruce knew he'll still have to take drastic measures for the Boy Scout to take an interest in Superboy - later. When he had his own partner back.

Batman's tone turned grimmer as he announced, "They have Robin."

The resulting gasps went unheard as a frantic beeping sound rang through the air. Batman grabbed the tracker from his belt, frowning suspiciously at the blinking dot to their west. He felt a surge of hope but just as quickly suppressed it. For days, that one dot had remained silent. That it would show up now could mean that Ra's has set up a trap or...

"What is it?" Wonder Woman stepped closer, eyes curious.

"Robin's tracer."

With those two words, he was immediately swamped with heroes wanting a closer look, other heroes demanding questions and the rest declaring that they'll go right over and see...

"No!" His scream silenced everyone in the vicinity, and maybe even some of the wildlife. He glared at each and every hero who answered his summons, dropping his voice into the tone he uses when he needed to scare off lowlifes. "No. We will _not _go about this mission half-cocked. Until now, Ra's al Ghul still holds all the cards. I will _not _allow him any more advantages over us. Understood?"

Shaky, wide-eyed nods all around.

"Good." He turned to the elder Martian. "Manhunter, I'll need you to-"

"Look out!"

Whatever his instructions were, were blown off in the face of Superman's shoving him away from the path of a laser. And all at once, mechanical turrets suddenly sprang from the ground, shooting a hail of bullets or power blasts at the assembled heroes.

Everyone scrambled to evade/take cover/or deflect the projectiles. The quiet that Batman commanded was shattered into chaos as heroes fought or defended against the robotic traps. And it didn't stop there.

Hulking figures were also bursting from the trees, their vaguely human frames made grotesque by overdeveloped builds and exposed muscles shown by hideous, gaping wounds. Like the Blockbuster formula, the mutants' skin proved to be too paper-thin to hold the rapidly growing bulk before hardening into the stone-like skin that covered them now. The beasts roared as they launched themselves into the fray, smashing into less-strong heroes until the ones with metahuman strength kept them at bay.

Batman took cover behind a ruined turret to assess the situation, and he wasn't happy at what he saw. Every cape was engaged in a fight with either a mechanized trap or a mutated human. At this point even if the sudden appearance of Robin's tracer signaled a trap, the heroes would be too worn down to take quick action. And if it wasn't a trap...

His eyes scanned the heroes until finally meeting a silver gaze. "Aqualad! Take your team and go find Robin! We'll handle this."

He watched the kids as one by one they retreated from the fight and ran towards the west - where Robin's signal came from. With the Justice League around, the kids' team was practically unnoticeable. Enemies tended to first take down the bigger perceived threat, not knowing that the smaller threat usually held their ace in the hole. In this two-pronged mission, it was best to send the kids to retrieve their teammate while the adults engaged in distracting the enemy.

As Batman leaped back in to take out a laser turret, he inwardly told himself to have faith in his missing partner...but it didn't stop the fear of what the kids might find on Robin's signal: whether that of a dead body or a Robin permanently changed.


	13. Chapter 13

Notes: I couldn't resist hehehe.

Reina Grayson and KaliAnn: Final hoopla before the end! Lolz.

Mirror's Mirage and jayfeather63: It'll be in the next chapter!

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><p>The first thing Dick saw as they burst through the East Entrance is acres of forest. It was a jolting change from miles of blank gray walls to lush verdant green. He could even hear bird calls instead of the creepy silence in the lab.<p>

"Of course," he said to himself, heading for the cover of the forest, "illegal labs are always isolated."

"Keyword being 'illegal'," Damian said sarcastically, following beside him. "How long did you think an active laboratory and training compound would remain hidden from the public if it was not isolated?"

"Cadmus did it."

Damian scoffed. "More fool they."

"But it worked out well in the end." Dick added with a grin. "We got Superboy out. And Batman allowed us to form a team to boot."

"T-t," was all Damian said.

Dick gave a mental shrug and scanned the forest perimeter for any hidden traps or incoming guards. He was pretty sure Damian could detect any danger before he could, and Talia had said the whole area was unguarded, but he'd rather not be caught by surprise anytime soon. He rubbed at his aching rib, trying to ease the soreness of the tight bandages, when his hand brushed against the granola bars he'd packed.

"Here," he grabbed one and gave it to Damian, "all that running and fighting must make you hungry."

Damian frowned at it with suspicion and asked, "What is it?"

"It's a granola bar." Dick took out the other one and tore the wrapper open with his teeth. "It's made of rolled oats, nuts, honey, and baked to a crispy goodness. Some companies add dried fruits to it for added flavor. These ones have chocolate chips mixed in." He held the snack out for Damian to see the small chocolate drops embedded in the oats.

The kid inspected the wrapped bar at first before he tentatively opened it and took a bite. Then, he raised an eyebrow in surprise and took another, bigger bite.

"Good, isn't it?"

Damian nodded, quickly finishing his bar. "It is...sweet."

Dick cackled softly, not wanting to let his laugh spread through the forest. "Kid Flash thought Batman wouldn't let me have any sweets during patrol. Then I told him that actually, he doesn't allow me to bring them whenever I had to work _with _Kid Flash." He finished his granola bar in three bites. "I told the rest of the team about it and they stopped bringing sweets to missions too. You do _not _want to have a sugar-high speedster around a delicate mission."

Damian was silent as he handed his empty wrapper to Dick - they had to be careful not to leave a trail for the League of Assassins to follow them. Then he raised his head as he asked softly, "This team of yours...you are close?"

Dick smiled, "Sure. We're almost like family."

Damian frowned, thoughtful. Dick knew that wasn't the end of the conversation so he waited until the kid continued, "You know who my father is. Am I...family...to you too?"

Dick's smile blossomed into a full-blown grin. He reached out with his good hand and grabbed the kid around his shoulders and pulled him close to ruffle the short hair. "Of course, you're family. You're practically-"

The hand that Damian raised to fight him off suddenly stilled. The kid perked his head up, listening. "I hear fighting."

Dick immediately took a step back. "Where?"

"This way." They didn't run, but they did go at a fast trot. When there's fighting involved, it's best not to bring any attention to yourself. At least, until you know who's who. Minutes passed and now Dick could hear it too: blasts of power, metal crunching, and machinery exploding. Damian paused in the middle of their walk, his head swiveling from side to side. Dick figured he was trying to pinpoint the exact area where the fighting was. Sounds in a forest tend to be muffled with all the leafy trees and ground mulch. But in this case, the fighting sounds like it was coming from everywhere.

"There are too many explosions." Damian complained, his fists clenched in frustration. "I can't isolate anything."

"Let's just keep going quietly," Dick suggested. "We're bound to stumble into the mess anyway, if it's as big a fight as I'm hearing."

Damian nodded and took a step forward. He was focused on the battle ahead of them and so didn't notice the turret rising from the forest floor. Dick however, two steps behind the younger, could. This close, the sounds of the battle drowned out the turret's sudden whirring as it warmed up to fire.

"Damian!" Dick screamed, lunging at the younger boy.

The turret opened fire on the space where they had been standing a second ago. A hail of bullets flew about them like a deadly shower of confetti as they fell to the ground. The forest mulch was dry, but soft with a thick layer of dead leaves to cushion their fall. But soft or not, it was still jarring to a broken rib.

Sharp fire ran through Dick's side and he curled up protectively, hissing at the pain. His curling up helped dislodge him from Damian's back and the younger stood lightning fast to charge the turret. He had picked up a thick fallen branch while he was down and immediately went to work mashing the turret into pulp. As Dick watched, stunned, Damian practically squashed steel like they were nothing. It was obvious the kid also had enhanced strength - not at Kryptonian levels and maybe not at Atlantean levels too, but it would be a close match. Dick wondered yet again what the League of Assassins was aiming for when they made Damian. Stronger, faster assassins in a decade? He didn't think they had enough patience to wait that long.

When the machine was reduced to a sparking, lumpy mess, Dick carefully sat up. "Okay, I think Mr. Turret has had enough."

Damian kept his back to him, shoulders heaving in exhaustion. Enhanced strength or not, taking out the machine with a berserker rage proved to be a strain for the kid. He tilted his head slightly to call over his shoulder at Dick, "Did you just...save me?"

Dick tried to smile through the pain of his aching rib, but he knew it came out lopsided. "Of course. It's what heroes do. I've been practicing since I was nine."

The kid's shoulders relaxed and turned to walk towards him, his blue gaze still guarded. "I...thank you. Grayson."

Dick's smile widened into a broad grin as he got to his feet with Damian's support. "You can thank me later. We've still got that fighting to find out."

The kid nodded and together they walked deeper into the forest. They soon found themselves entering a clearing with a pond in the middle. It should have been a normal sight, a small body of water in the middle of a forest, but there was something different about the pond. Dick frowned and stepped closer to its edge, noticing the smoothness of the banks. "Manmade." He commented loudly.

"I remember my grandfather mentioning creating a pond to lure in wandering innocents." Damian answered, standing beside him. "He'd often say that a forest lake was enticing to curious eyes but because of manpower constraints, he had to settle for a pond instead."

Dick grimaced and took a step backwards. "Thanks for the warning."

He'd barely turned to walk away when something wrapped around his ankle and tugged. _Hard. _He was falling. His arms reached out to stop his fall but there was nothing to grab onto and _he was falling into the lake._ Then stars exploded in his vision and there was nothing.


	14. Chapter 14

Notes: If chapter 5 started the whole fic, this chapter grabbed the plot bunny and ran away with it.

Reina Grayson: Hehehe, sorry ^^ But look! It's the chapter you've been waiting for! :D

GhostDog401: Sorry to disappoint you ^^;

KaliAnn: I love bonding moments too :D I've already got a couple planned for the sequel...when I get to writing it...

jayfeather63: Hence, my note that I couldn't resist lolz. Don't worry, it's the last one :)

EnvelopesandCypressTrees and Jadeyuy: The fic's only up to part 15 ^^

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><p>"Grayson!"<p>

That one scream tore through the cacophony and straight to Batman's ears. He hurled one of the smaller robots into the firing path of a sprung turret and frantically searched for the source.

"I heard it coming from over here!" a rush of red and yellow as Flash zoomed past.

Batman followed as fast as he could. The League had destroyed or contained most of the enemies that had been sent after them and were now taking care of the stragglers. Clean up was usually a slow, methodical process but the scream of his son's name had him tearing through the decimated ranks like a man possessed. He knew, without even seeing them, that he'd attracted the other heroes' curiosity and that they were following him in turn. Batman ignored them all in favor of keeping the streak of red and yellow in his sights.

He was just a few paces behind Flash when he shoved a low hanging branch away and emerged onto a clearing with a smooth-edged pond. His hand went straight for a batarang when he noticed the floating debris on the water, but he froze at the sight of _six _teens - half of whom were soaking wet - kneeling around something just a few steps away from the pond.

Flash's arrival brought the teens' heads up and Kid Flash zoomed over to drag his uncle towards the group. "Uncle B! Rob's _drowning_ and Aqualad's trying to resuscitate but it's not working and this kid says Rob hit his head going into the lake and-"

"Slow down, Kid." Flash gently pulled his hand from his nephew's grip and purposefully walked over to the huddled teens. "So, what happened to Robin?"

"He is suffering from a mild concussion when his head hit the lake's man-made rim," proclaimed a dark-haired boy who looked younger than Robin. He was kneeling right beside the lump that Bruce recognized as his son, his attention remaining on Robin even as he spoke to Flash. "Upon realizing that he was not breathing, I immediately administered CPR with assist from the Atlantean. We have been successful in bringing Robin back to consciousness."

"Rob's okay?" Kid Flash asked in relief.

In response, Robin slowly sat up, helped by both the strange boy and Aqualad. It was then that Bruce realized his partner wasn't wearing his mask, his dulled blue eyes exposed for all the heroes to see.

"Robin?" Bruce belatedly realized he'd spoken when everyone glanced up at him.

At the sight of him, the strange boy stood up and walked towards him. Up close, there was no mistaking the familiar blue of _his_ eyes as he stared at Bruce. Those eyes were the same shade as the ones that stared back at him through a mirror. Then with one word, the boy made the entire world flip upside down.

The boy opened his mouth and said, "Father."

"What!" Superman's booming voice echoed through the clearing, announcing the arrival of the rest of the League. "Another clone?"

The boy visibly bristled, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the Kryptonian. "I am _not _a clone!" he cried, "and I refuse to be called such a degrading entity!"

"Hey!" Superboy shouted in protest. He took a menacing step forward and growled, "At least I'm not anything like a bas-"

"Enough." Aqualad's commanding tone brought both boys up short. "Superboy, no swearing. And you," he turned to the boy, "do not throw insults indiscriminately."

"T-t." The boy crossed his arms and scowled back. "I do not take orders from an Atlantean subordinate."

"Dami."

Dick's voice was weak. Bruce could detect a slight tremble that was probably caused by water in the lungs. Kid Flash and Artemis were helping him to his feet though his legs looked ready to collapse beneath him. But his eyes were now clear as he gazed straight at the boy. "It's okay, Dami. They're my teammates."

The boy - Dami - turned to scowl at Dick but its intensity softened until finally, the boy glanced away. "Of course I had considered that, Grayson. Do not mock me."

"I wasn't." Dick took a step closer. His legs wobbled and he would have fallen if it wasn't for Artemis' quick hands supporting him. "I promise, I wasn't."

Dami's tense shoulders relaxed, his anger dissipating. Bruce kept a smile to himself at this proof of his partner's charisma. How many times had he managed to calm _Batman _down with a few sincere words and puppy eyes? And how many times had Bruce promised himself he would be immune the next time he saw those eyes - only to once again relent at a single moment's glance?

But now wasn't the time for recollection. He strode forward until he was standing two steps away from Dick. "Robin. Who is this."

Dick's back straightened as he replied, "His name's Damian. And he's...he's my brother."

Bruce raised an eyebrow in surprise at Dick's audacity of claiming the strange boy as kin. And yet... "Explain."

"I can't really explain _how _but-"

"There is no time for explanations." Damian stomped over to stand beside Dick. "Grayson is suffering from a mild concussion and will need scans to make sure he is not bleeding internally. He has also re-fractured his sixth rib and will need to rest; unlike his broken arm which has been healing well for the past week."

"Thanks for the diagnosis, doc." Dick said lightly even as Kid Flash burst, "And how do _you _know? How old are you?"

"I am physically ten." Dami answered smugly. "And I have enough training and knowledge about human anatomy to apply for a college medical degree." The arrogant tone lowered as he muttered, "If I could attend college."

"We'll work something out." Dick smiled and wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders. Bruce pretended not to notice that his partner was actually leaning most of his weight on Damian. Then Dick turned expectantly to Bruce. "So what do you say, Batman? Think we got room enough for one more?"

Bruce considered the situation. He will have to concoct a cover story to explain Damian's sudden appearance in Bruce Wayne's life - he'll have to get the whole story from Dick later - and he will have to assess the boy's skills - the white-and-black jumpsuits both boys were wearing did not hide a slim, toned build. But Damian was a result of the League of Assassins' illegal genetic tampering. Who knows what training or mutations this child has been given? As he thought more on the matter, he realized that Dick was right in his one question: did their family of three have room for one more?

And as he watched the two boys in front of him -

Damian was staring at Dick, blue eyes intense with awe as though he'd found something incredible and yet shadowed with disbelief because he wasn't sure if what he found was an illusion that would disappear the moment he touched it. Bruce didn't know what to make of that until the boy said softly, "Brother?"

Dick just grinned and nodded. "Li'l bro." He said firmly.

- and Bruce realized he'd given in to those puppy eyes once again.


	15. Chapter 15

Notes: All done! Thanks for sticking with this story till the end :) And this one's pretty short so I figured I might as well post it too.

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><p>Dick healed in time, of course. Talia's people had already taken first care of the rib and the arm so all Alfred and Dr. Leslie had to do when they got home was change the bandages from time to time and confirm that Dick <em>should not <em>exert himself by working out. So it was Damian that Bruce sparred with; teaching the kid some of the more obscure martial arts and honing his skill. In the meantime, Bruce set Dick with mental exercises instead: solve some of the more complicated cold case files from the police. Dick was eager to start investigating the cases; that is, until Bruce told him that he can't physically involve himself.

"So how am I going to look into the case if I can't go out to find the evidence?" he complained.

"_You _might not go. But that doesn't mean the _police _can't." Bruce answered while tossing a staff to Damian.

"I am already familiar with various disciplines of staff fighting, Father." The kid said.

"Humor me."

"T-t."

Dick tried to watch the spar but soon found himself wanting to jump in and join them, so he shook his head and went back to the cold case files instead. He was on the third case - he'll have to ask the cops if anyone followed up on some of the suspects in the previous cases - when a yawn caught him. Bruce and Damian had moved to practicing batarang throwing now. Dick raised his arms to stretch the stiffness out of his body - and remembered too late about his fractured rib.

The jolt of pain shooting through his side had him hissing and clutching at the pain.

"Dick?"

Dick looked up, realizing that the other two had paused in their exercise to watch him with concern.

"You alright?" Bruce asked.

"I'm fine." Dick waved off their concern. "I just shifted wrong, that's all."

Damian snorted. "You should take better care of yourself, Grayson."

Dick grinned. "Whatever you say, li'l bro."


End file.
